


dreams too grand, we've got no plan

by sysupportgroup



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Lee Chan | Dino, Past Injury, Volleyball, homoeroticism of team sports folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sysupportgroup/pseuds/sysupportgroup
Summary: “You want a bet?” Seungkwan challenges, tipping his chin up fiercely. “Fine. Block three of my serves - it’s gotta hit my side of the court. You win, you walk away. You lose, you become our new middle blocker.”The team holds their breath. Without looking, Seungkwan knows Hansol is making that constipated-grimace face he hates so much. The new kid looks around at their anticipating expressions, back to Seungkwan’s face burning up with vindictiveness. Laughs and slings his bag on the ground. Grabs for a volleyball from the cart and drops it into Seungkwan’s hands.“Bring it on.”
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Kim Mingyu
Comments: 18
Kudos: 70
Collections: Director's Cut Fest





	dreams too grand, we've got no plan

**Author's Note:**

> i think seungkwan deserves to live out his volleyball dreams and im here to make them come true (sorta)
> 
> inspo media: crossing the line (越界)

“I want him.”

Hansol blinks at him, frustratingly unsurprised at Seungkwan’s sudden outburst, “Who?”

“Him! Who else?” Seungkwan hisses sharply, directing his eyes pointedly at the boy with the wide shoulders playing Moses down the corridor, parting the stream of loitering highschool students with his imposing height. 

“Who?” Hansol hooks a finger under his bag strap and cocks his head to the side, scanning the crowd lazily.

“Him!” Seungkwan snaps, grabbing Hansol’s head between his slightly sweaty palms and angling them in the boy’s direction, “Tall guy! Wouldn’t he be perfect to replace Seungcheol hyung? Seokmin’s still too scared of the ball to be middle blocker.”

“Oh wow,” Hansol says simply, “yeah he’s tall. I think he’s new.” 

Seungkwan makes a frustrated broken sound, one snapped thread away from throwing a tantrum right outside homeroom, “Can you at least  _ act _ like the Captain?”

Hansol clucks his tongue, scrubbing a hand through his hair, “I thought I’ve been doing that.”

“Not if you let talent like that slip through your fingers!” Seungkwan decrys, outraged. Back when he started highschool, he’d have attracted everyone’s heads with all his noise. Three years on though, even the new first-years have gotten used to it. It leaves him feeling just a little empty, the drama queen in him starving for the watering of attention when the incessant tide of gossip buries his presence. No one turns to look at him, no one except - 

“Whatever it is, I’m not joining.”

Tall boy’s stopped in the midst of the hallway, throwing them a dirty glance over his shoulder like they’ve just killed his dog. Jeez, what a bad personality. It leaves Seungkwan a nasty bad taste in his mouth, being picked out like that, but he can’t let it show. They  _ need _ a better middle blocker - Seokmin, for all his positive points, cannot keep shrieking and falling on his butt whenever the ball comes flying at his fingers and Seungkwan’s patience is running terribly low. 

“Are you sure?” Seungkwan tries playing nice but it comes unnaturally to him, the forced curve of his lips and the resistance in his eyes making Hansol shift uncomfortably next to him. “Volleyball’s the best sport, come try it out after school! We practice from - “

Tall boy - the fucking audacity - rolls his eyes and mutters what sounds like a curse word under his breath. 

Seungkwan’s pupils dilate and he’s taking a step forward before he can even register it, only Hansol’s steady steel grip on his wrist holding him back from landing a flying kick right at the small of the new kid’s back.

“Take that back!”

This time, his outburst gets more head turns. The potential of a fight always brings out the sharks in the water but Seungkwan grits his teeth and feels the horrible parasite of pride in his chest swell a little more with the attention.

Tall boy looks back - sees Seungkwan physically restrained and straining against it. Snorts. Gives Seungkwan a little mocking wave with his fingers and winks before striding away. 

Seungkwan snarls, indignation choking up his chest as he wrestles his arm away from Hansol and stomps back into homeroom to yell curses at the back wall of lockers. Hah! Recruit, what recruit? Who needs that height when you have a personality that shitty.

//

“What is  _ he _ doing here?”

“Didn’t you want him?” Hansol blinks at him, all big doe eyes like he’s still that middle school kid with lopsided sideburns that Seungkwan decided he had to adopt instantly. “I thought we needed a middle blocker.”

Seungkwan gapes at him, hands flailing in midair before they find a landing pad, slapping Hansol upside the head. 

“Did you not see how he treated me this afternoon?”

Hansol lifts a hand calmly to the side of his head where Seungkwan hit him (lightly!) and massages the spot with the most placid look on his face, “Oh. Well we still need a middle blocker though - I only invited him to watch anyways. He hasn’t joined any other clubs yet.”

“Hmm,” Seungkwan says distrustingly, folding his arms up and eyeing the hunched over 180 centimetres of boy seated in the bleachers, “how bad would it be if he got a volleyball to the head?”

“Bad,” Hansol says firmly, steering him away by the shoulders and parking him next to the cart of volleyballs. Most of the team is here at this point, milling around the cart and chatting aimlessly, “let’s just get started. You hate us wasting time, right?”

Seungkwan harrumphs but succumbs to the bait, fishing out his whistle from underneath his track jacket. He takes a satisfying amount of pleasure from the way everyone winces at the sharp shriek piercing through the gym when he blows it, barking out, “Warm-up time - Lee Chan, lead.”

“Why is it always me?” Chan grumbles but shuffles to the middle of the circle anyways, starting to star jump slowly. Everyone else follows along, some of the younger years visibly sweating when Seungkwan’s careful prowl around the circle brings him closer to them. 

“You’re my favourite dongsaeng, of course.” Seungkwan says sweetly and blows the whistle again, harsh. “Stretches then lunges.”

A chorus of groans as Chan lights up. It’s no surprise that he’s the only one excited - everyone else’s flexibility has gone to shit with age, just Chan’s dancing background keeping him limber as he runs metaphorical circles around everyone else. 

“You’re welcome,” Seungkwan smirks, nudging Hansol slyly, even as Hansol’s visibly trembling from the effort of trying to touch his toes.

“I hate this.” Hansol informs him breathlessly, but he’s always been terrible at hiding his actual feelings. Hansol’s just an open book, Chapter 3: Big Fat Crush on Lee Chan written all over his face. “Why do you treat me like this?”

“It makes life so fun, Hansol-ah.” Seungkwan chucks him under the chin and leaves him be, stepping to the side to run through the list of drills they’ll be running through for today. Typically, Coach Han is the one who coaches both the girls’ and boys’ volleyball teams but with Seungkwan around as team manager, she hasn’t needed to give them that much attention and can spend more time trying to whip Captain Eunbi and her team into shape. It’s not that the girls aren’t good - if Seungkwan was being force fed a truth potion, he’d admit they’re honestly leagues ahead of the boys - but in terms of discipline… 

He lifts his head up from his clipboard to regard the sprawling chaos occurring on the other side of the gym, the two of the girls playfully brawling it out on the ground as Coach Han watches on in tired silence. 

...Yeah.

“Stretches done!” Chan chirps, “What’s on for today?”

“Serves,” Seungkwan pops the end of his pen in his mouth and bites down in thought, “we’re still pretty hit and miss for them, I want us to refine our short serves more. At least try to get them over the net. Three lines everyone - behind Lee Chan, Hansollie and Seokmin.”

Everyone obediently shuffles behind a designated leader, Seungkwan tucking his clipboard under his arm as he jogs over lightly in the direction of the bleachers where the carts of volleyballs are parked.

New Kid eyes him distrustfully as he comes over and Seungkwan just meets his watchful gaze with a roll of his eyes. 

“Hope you’re having fun,” Seungkwan snorts, one hand on each of the carts as he pushes them in the direction of the court, “surprised you came along when Hansollie asked you.”

“He asked me  _ nicely _ ,” New Kid drawls out, feet propped up on the bench in front of him and Seungkwan is definitely feeling the burning urge to slap that lazy drone out his mouth, “less interesting than you were making it sound though. What’s so hard about a glorified game of keep-it-up?”

Seungkwan was hellbent on ignoring him, really he was, but his resistance crumples almost embarrassingly quickly in the face of targeted provocation like this. No one talks shit about volleyball to him,  _ no one _ . 

Seungkwan grits his teeth and turns around. A startled groan from where he left the boys and he knows he’s gotta get his words in fast before one of them tries to stop him. 

“Why don’t you try for yourself?” He offers, already seething on the inside, letting someone so unworthy touch his beloved volleyballs, “Give a serve a go, tell me how easy it is.”

He fully expects New Kid to just scoff and walk out but curiously, he tucks his phone away into his pocket and climbs to his feet. He flashes Seungkwan a cocky grin, giving him an eyeful of sharp canines and a deep dimple, swaggering down the steps like nothing can touch him. 

“What do I get if I do?” He stops in front of Seungkwan, hand shoved in his pocket, bag slung over his shoulder like a delinquent. Seungkwan’s least favourite kind of boy, ugh.

“You get to leave without a volleyball being served at your - “

“We stop bothering you about volleyball.” Hansol slides up next to him, one arm thrown around Seungkwan in warning. “If you’re not interested, you’re not interested man, it’s cool. Captain’s guarantee.”

Mingyu slides his tongue across his lips, falling in step with Hansol, a few metres behind Seungkwan’s stony glare as he wheels the carts of volleyballs back to the group, “And if I don’t?”

“Then you can join if you want,” Seungkwan can practically hear Hansol shrugging, “like I said, if you’re not interested, you’re not interested.”

“Doesn’t sound much like a bet then,” New Kid says and he almost sounds disappointed. 

Seungkwan whirls around and comes chest to chest with him. He glares upwards, hating the fact that the top of his head is only halfway above the kid’s shoulders. 

“You want a bet?” Seungkwan challenges, tipping his chin up fiercely. “Fine. Block three of my serves - it’s gotta hit my side of the court. You win, you walk away. You lose, you become our new middle blocker.”

The team holds their breath. Without looking, Seungkwan knows Hansol is making that constipated-grimace face he hates so much. The new kid looks around at their anticipating expressions, back to Seungkwan’s face burning up with vindictiveness. Laughs and slings his bag on the ground. Grabs for a volleyball from the cart and drops it into Seungkwan’s hands.

“Bring it on.”

//

“Seungkwan.”

“Hansol.”

“As Captain, I’m telling you - “ Hansol trots alongside him as Seungkwan stalks his way to the other side of the net, towards the serve line.

“And as best friend and manager,  _ I’m  _ telling you I can do it.” He tosses the volleyball up and down in his hands, this one his own, and visualises it colliding smackbang with New Kid’s stupidly handsome face. “It’s  _ personal _ .” 

No one gets to disdain volleyball in front of him. He’s poured too much love, sweat and tears into this team, into this game, for anyone to treat it with anything but the highest of respect. 

He sneaks a look at Hansol’s worried face and a little bit of his heart cramps up. He sighs, an unspoken apology, “I won’t do anything fancy, Hansol-ah, I won’t need to.”

“Still,” Hansol hedges, looking pointedly at Coach Han, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tries to corral the girls into drills, “you know coach would - “

“How good can he be?” Seungkwan says impatiently. “Come on, I could clear him with three underarm serves, easy.”

Hansol makes a disbelieving noise but stands aside and lets Seungkwan position himself behind the line anyways, anxious eyes tracking all over Seungkwan’s body.

“Stop checking me out.” Seungkwan tells him brusquely. “I know my ass is nice but - “

“Just get this over with?” Hansol all but begs. “I think he’s ready.”

He’s not wrong - aided by Chan, New Kid’s positioned properly right behind the net, butt stuck out hands comically in the air as he narrows in on the ball in Seungkwan’s hands like he’s on the wrong side of fetch. 

“Fine.” 

Seungkwan hums and delivers an underarm serve, targeted just outside the reach of New Kid’s arms.

To his surprise, New Kid goes full out for it. He doesn’t make contact, no, but the empty thump of the ball on the court and squeak of shoes as New Kid trips over himself, stumbling into the net, is barely satisfying. He came closer to blocking it than Seungkwan thought he would’ve, a faster reaction time than his stupid height would suggest. 

“Oh wow.” Hansol says, impressed as Chan shows New Kid how to return the ball, gentle toss from under the net. 

Seungkwan receives the ball with a deep scowl on his face, rolling his shoulders aggressively as he starts to re-evaluate. Okay fine, maybe this won’t be candy from a baby range of easy. Still  _ easy _ , but Seungkwan can’t continue with underarms. 

New Kid adjusts his stance, smiling brightly at Chan as the traitor chirps out pointers. Seungkwan grinds his teeth, spins the ball in his hands. Calls out, “Ready? Two tries left.”

“Try me!”

Seungkwan breathes out in a steady stream, eyes shut to concentrate before flying open again. The ball flies up. Seungkwan counts, one, two, three. It’s pure instinct zipping through him when he reaches up, follows through, palm connects and - 

“Urgh!” New Kid grunts, hesitating for a split second before leaping to the left. The ball bounces into empty space, New Kid’s face nearly making friends with the floor. Seungkwan’s not assured though, tense all the way through. That was meant to be a  _ fake _ , he was meant to jump to the  _ right _ . 

“Hansol,” Seungkwan says measuredly, “send someone to get the icepacks out.”

“Seungkwan, you can’t - “

“I can and I will.” Seungkwan bites out, lasers on as he receives the ball into his hands, taking a few steps back behind the serve line. “I’m not  _ playing _ , am I? Doctor’s orders are still being followed.”

“Seungkwan…”

“Just - “ Seungkwan holds the ball up so that it’s blocking his view of the court. Touches his temple to it and breathes in slow, a magic three to stamp the anxiety and resentment back down. “Lecture me after, Hansol-ah.”

His best friend sighs reluctantly and Seungkwan feels his presence retreat, giving him space.

Seungkwan opens his eyes and grins, grim, “Last try.”

New Kid barks out a laugh, “Three times is the charm, right?”

“You’re going to need more than charm to block this,” Seungkwan tosses back, kissing his ball arrogantly, “get ready.”

“Born ready.”

And oh, Seungkwan is going to enjoy bringing him down.

He cracks his neck. Sees varying expressions of awe and terror as he tosses the ball up, runs and  _ jumps _ . Flat palm, no spin, perfect delivery. In the air, Seungkwan feels weightless. 

And then gravity drags him down and the pain lightnings up his right leg, concentrating in the knee and making him stagger several steps forward. Hansol’s there to catch him, he always is. He hands Seungkwan an icepack and utters a non-committal congratulations amidst the whoops of their team at Seungkwan’s win.

Seungkwan raises his head triumphantly, gets an eyeful of New Kid’s back as he stares blankly at the desolate ball sitting pretty on the court. 

Feeling Seungkwan’s eyes on his back, the boy turns around, mouth set in a neutral line before it ticks up at the side in a small smile. He doesn’t look very resentful about not having won and that… that pisses Seungkwan off even more.

“Guess it’s your win,” the boy says and dips into a bow. Sincere or mocking, Seungkwan has no idea, “my name’s Kim Mingyu. I’ll be in your care.”

//

“I don’t like him.”

“You were the one who said we needed a middle blocker!”

“Yeah well - “ Seungkwan flounders, “I just don’t like him. That’s all I’m saying, he has a bad personality.”

“I don’t know about that, he seemed pretty nice to me.” Seokmin pats Seungkwan’s hair sympathetically, twisting his locker open and expertly navigating the jungle inside to fish out his crumpled school shirt. He strips off his shirt to change and says, muffled. “We’re in the same class together, he helps me with maths!”

“Don’t get taken in by him,” Seungkwan says huffily, clutching the icepack tighter to his ankle, “you’re too pure and naive for your own good. I wouldn’t be surprised if you got swindled in five years if you believe him, Lee Seokmin.”

“No, I agree with Seokmin hyung,” Chan pipes up from across the changing room, tightening up his tie, “he seems like a nice guy. And we really do need a middle blocker - we’ve got that practice match in a few months, don’t we?”

“Maybe sooner,” Seungkwan clucks his tongue in displeasure, “I messaged Cheol-hyung about getting some of his friends to play us in a practice match and they can do it two months from now, after their exams are over.”

“Yay, Seungcheol hyung.” Hansol whoops softly, stuffing his sweaty volleyball gear into his bag and closing it up, leaning against the locker to wait unsubtly for Chan. 

“Yeah so you guys better be at the top of your game.” The last thing Seungkwan wants is to show Seungcheol that his precious club’s fallen to pieces under Seungkwan’s guidance. Okay, technically Hansol’s but they all know who’s running the shots around here. “Ugh, and we’ve got to train up the newbie too. Does anyone want to volunteer?”

“Um,” Seokmin laughs, fake and loud, shirt half on as he speedwalks out of the changing room, “gotta go bye.”

“I’m also gonna pass on that,” Chan winces, coming over to help Seungkwan up, “I’ve got a dance competition with my dad going on, I won’t be able to stay behind much. Hansol hyung might…”

“Nup,” Hansol shakes his head regretfully, “I have to babysit Hangyullie after school. Mum still doesn’t trust her in the house alone after she made that cake, that time.”

“Fuck,” Seungkwan says, “the things I do for this team.”

Chan snorts. “Odds on how fast he’ll be quitting?” 

//

Seungkwan is tired. So so tired.

“You don’t set with your forehead,” he says for what feels like the thousandth time, “hands. Humans have them. Use them.”

“I’m trying,” Mingyu whines, and manages to concentrate for a grand total of five seconds before the ball falls onto his face again, “ow!”

“Oh my god,” Seungkwan tries to call up the meditation exercises his sister recommended to him when he was struggling with his PT and too many anger issues to name, “look just - Let’s do an easy drill, okay?”

He stands opposite Mingyu and motions for the ball to be passed to him, “I’m going to set to you and you’re going to set back to me, okay? Try to focus on accuracy, move as little as possible.”

“Fine.” Mingyu sulks and gets into position - at least he’s got that part right - and they actually manage pretty well for about a minute or so. 

And then Mingyu decides to open his mouth.

“Why are you so… you know. About volleyball.”

“So… what?”

“So,” Mingyu pokes his tongue out of his mouth, trying to find the words, “serious. You’re so serious about it. You know no one’s going to die from volleyball, right?”

“Does that mean you can’t take it seriously?” Seungkwan counters, knot forming between his brows and that ever-present tightness in his chest yanking drawstrings tighter around his heart. 

“No, of course not. It’s just… interesting to me. I’ve never seen someone care as much as you about a sport before.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Seokmin talks a lot.”

“...of course he does.” Seungkwan sets the ball too forcefully this time and Mingyu fumbles with the receive. It bounces right off his face, leaving him groaning a little and holding his eye.

“Ah shit,” Seungkwan mumbles, feeling partially guilty for it. He moves swiftly to Mingyu’s side, reins himself in to one second of cursing about Mingyu’s stupid towering height, before tugging his shirt to make him crouch down, “let me take a look. Try to keep your eyes open.”

Mingyu stares at a diagonal angle, silent as he lets Seungkwan peer at his face. It’s a nice face, Seungkwan finds himself admitting in regret. Good skin, clear eyes, those canines that peek out when Mingyu smiles. Handsome in an objective way but not Seungkwan’s type at all. 

He leans over and frowns - shouldn’t be anything in Mingyu’s eye. He slaps Mingyu’s shoulder and jokes stiffly, “It’s fine, I don’t think there’s anything in there. What are you holding your breath for? I’m not going to like, slap you, you know?”

“N-nothing,” Mingyu says and he straightens back up again, looking a little shaken, “um, it feels fine now. What are we doing next?”

“...receives.” Seungkwan says suspiciously, but doesn’t push it further. They don’t have much time to get Mingyu up to speed with the basics of volleyball before their next practice session. Seungkwan wants it to be a full team including their newly acquired blocker, so getting Mingyu familiar with rules and concepts of the game is of prime importance right now. “Then we’re going to cover serves and I’ll set you homework to practice all of the stuff I’ve taught you today.”

“Serves?” Mingyu perks up. “Like that awesome jumping move you did the other day?”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says evasively, “that’s a serve. You just need to know underarm and overarm ones for now though.”

“I can’t learn the jumping one?”

“No.” Seungkwan doesn’t even have to think before shutting him down. 

“Why?”

“You can’t even set yet and you want to learn how to do a jumping float serve?”

“So… no?”

“Big no,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes and smiles, noxiously sweet, “we’ll do something even more fun, how’s that?”

“What are we doing?”

“Receiving practice.”

“...are you just going to throw balls at me.”

“You really do catch on fast.”

//

The sun has gone down by the time Seungkwan deigns to call it a day, Mingyu begging off by reason of his mother being the most massive pain if he doesn’t get home in time for dinner. 

“So what’s your homework, repeat it back to me.”

“One hundred sets every day, one hundred dig receives everyday, that passing drill against the wall...” 

“And blocking footwork.”

“Ugh, and the blocking footwork,” Mingyu concedes, nodding sadly, “my sister’s going to make fun of me for looking stupid.”

“Think about how cool you’ll look in the game.” Seungkwan says dismissively and waves Mingyu off with a hand, “Make sure you do all these everyday - if you can’t keep up at practice, I’m going to make you receive the rest of the group’s serves. Think the receiving drill we just did but worse.”

Mingyu’s face pales and he nods, serious. He’s a little cuter, more tolerable at least, when his mouth is shut.

Seungkwan isn’t sure what about that flips a switch in him exactly, but he finds himself stooping down to pick a volleyball off the floor, a distinct red in a sea of green. He lobs it at Mingyu’s head and enjoys the way the boy yelps and flinches.

“Are we starting already?” Mingyu asks, just a little bit pathetic.

“Were you planning on running drills without a volleyball?” Seungkwan arches an eyebrow and busies himself by picking up a few more balls from where he can reach, letting Mingyu marinate in that thought.

“Isn’t this school property though?” Mingyu eyes him dubiously even though his eyes shine bright as they inspect the ball in his hands.

“Look at where the logo is.” Seungkwan laughs, leaning on the cart. Mingyu does as he’s told, mouth falling open gormlessly when he sees the neat handwriting there. “It’s one of the old ones that I donated last year. The school doesn’t really know it’s here so you can have it for practice.”

Seungkwan doesn’t know what else to say when Mingyu keeps gaping at him like that, eyes travelling incredulously between the ball and Seungkwan’s face. He shifts uncomfortably and waves a hand in an universal movement of  _ shoo _ , “Just remember to actually practice with it. If you’re not up to par next time…”

“Receiving drills.” Mingyu makes a face, tucking the ball under his arm carefully. “Got it. Thanks, Seungkwan-ssi. Or should I call you manager-nim?”

“Either is fine.” Seungkwan shrugs, walking over to the net and collecting three more balls. He turns back only to realise that Mingyu is still hovering. “What?

“...are you sure I can’t help?”

“It’s seriously fine,” Seungkwan sighs, dumping the balls into the cart and flapping his shirt quickly to air his sweat out, “I’m used to it. I’ll head home after I clean up and lock the doors. Go home Mingyu-ssi, good work today.”

Mingyu stares at him blankly before a silly smile spreads over his face.

“What?” Seungkwan asks, not sure if he’s going to like the answer or not.

“Nothing,” Mingyu says giddily, “today is just  _ wild.  _ A gift  _ and  _ a compliment from Boo Manager, ah I’m really too lucky.”

Seungkwan stares at him, mouth dry and parched of snappy retorts. 

“You haven’t even been in the team for a week,” he finds the words finally, mouth shaping around the syllables like a foreign language, “cherish that whilst it lasts. Now _leave_ , oh my god, do you like staying after school that much?”

Mingyu shrugs and bounces off in the direction of the changing rooms. Seungkwan watches him go, broad figure practically skipping away, and wonders why he was ever intimidated to begin with. 

_ It must be my charming personality _ , Seungkwan thinks wryly to himself, meandering around to gather the rest of the balls to dump in the cart,  _ it really tames all the boys. _

He grabs one more ball from the bleachers where it ended up after a serve gone wild. Bounces it on the ground a few times as he walks back towards the cart, tosses it from hand to hand. In his head, he hears Hansol’s voice telling him to stop being reckless. His mother’s voice chiding him sternly as he hefts it into the air from behind the serve line and follows through - one, two,  _ smack _ . It flies straight as an arrow, lands about a metre away from the  _ out _ line where he wanted it.

A familiar swell of  _ frustration-anger-desperation _ rises up in him. God, has it really only been half a year since he stopped playing? A year ago, that would’ve landed solidly on the innermost part of the white line, not one centimetre more or less. 

Seungkwan bites his lip and sneaks a glance at the mostly full cart. Well… no one’s waiting at home for him today today. And the freezer is always full of frozen things he can appropriate for icepacks, right? He won’t overdo it. Just keeping his skills sharp, that’s all it is. 

He’s reaching for another ball before he can even think about reigning himself in. At first it’s just overhands, again and again and again until that’s not enough it’s not up to standard and he needs  _ more _ . Needs to prove to himself he’s still got this, knee injury or not he’s still Boo Seungkwan. And Boo Seungkwan doesn’t give up. Boo Seungkwan  _ can  _ persevere. Boo Seungkwan  _ can  _ do jumping float serves. Boo Seungkwan can… can…

“Are you okay?”

Seungkwan grasps the side of the cart, white-knuckling it through the searing pain in his right knee. It’s giving out on him, crumpling like wet paper. He slumps down unwillingly, hip hitting the ground with a solid thud, joint protesting all the way. There’s wetness on his face, something he wouldn’t have noticed if Kim Mingyu hadn’t appeared right in front of him and thumbed at his tears gently.

“What are you doing here?” Seungkwan says wetly. “What - “

“I forgot something,” Mingyu says, a trace of guilt in his voice and -

A thought strikes Seungkwan and it frightens him to the core:  _ how much did he see? _

“How long were you there?” Seungkwan asks frantically, scrabbling at the cart in a futile effort to haul himself back up. He’s aware he probably resembles a caged animal right now, struggling away from its captors, but there’s so much panic surging through him it fritzes out his brain entirely as he lunges to stand. “ _ How long _ ?”

Mingyu makes a small scared noise and leans over Seungkwan’s heaving body, scooping him up in a princess carry with far more gentleness that someone with a shitty personality should possess.

“Sorry,” he says, small, carrying Seungkwan to the bleachers to rest and scooping up the water bottle he ostensibly forgot. He tosses it around in his hands anxiously before holding it out to Seungkwan like a peace offering, “I - I didn’t know.”

“It’s not like I go around boasting about it.” Seungkwan snarls bitterly, wiping roughly at his messy face with the back of his arm and ignoring Mingyu’s bottle. He shakes his head and moves to swing himself off the bench - there are so many volleyballs littering the floor now, probably even more than when they started. “Forget about it, just don’t tell anyone. Go  _ home _ .”

Mingyu grits his teeth and pushes gently at Seungkwan’s shoulder, “I’m not going home whilst you’re like this! Can you even walk?”

“I can... “ Seungkwan falters, face still twisted up in agony, “I can call a cab. And use the cart to get around the gym. It’s no big deal, I’ve done this before.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen with disbelief, hands wrestling themselves into his own sweat soaked hair and making it stand up at weird angles as he points a finger at Seungkwan, demanding, “Just - stay. Don’t move, don’t move, oh my god.”

He rushes off like a fool, loading his shirt with volleyballs and carrying an entire heap with him as he runs back and forth from the cart. When the floor is clear, he wheels the cart into the storage area and mops his brow, coming back to Seungkwan with a hard set to his face.

“There’s no way you can go home like this. Is there anyone waiting for you?”

Seungkwan keeps silent, stubborn as he drinks from Mingyu’s water bottle without looking him in the eye.

Mingyu folds his arms, equally stubborn apparently, “I’ll… I’ll just take you back to my place if you don’t answer me. My mum will fuss over you until you’re dead and trust me, you don’t want that.”

Seungkwan tightens up his jaw, hands the bottle back to Mingyu and looks off into the distance where the sun’s long been gone.

“No one’s home, mum’s working late and my sisters don’t live at home anymore.”

“I’ll bring you home then.”

“You don’t - “

“I’ve already told my mum I’m not going back,” Mingyu shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at Seungkwan, frowning, “just let me drop you off. I can’t leave you like this.”

“I’m perfectly capable of - “ Seungkwan tries to get up but immediately falls back down on his butt with a pained hiss. God, he can’t even pretend anymore, what has this world come to.

“Uh huh,” Mingyu says and grabs for his and Seungkwan’s bags, slinging them on his front. He turns his back to Seungkwan and squats down, “come on, it’s going to get colder the longer this takes.”

“You’re  _ not  _ going to piggyback me.”

“Actually, I _ am  _ going to piggyback you.”

“You don’t even know where I live!”

“Just until we get a cab then.”

“ _ We _ ?”

“Should I call the hospital instead then?”

Bastard. 

Seungkwan glares at the broadness of Mingyu’s back resentfully, pissed that he’s got him by the balls there. He wishes he’d actually kicked him in the back on that first day they met. 

He makes a point of not giving any verbal concessions when he gives in and climbs onto Mingyu reluctantly, wrapping his arms around Mingyu’s warm neck.

“Let me know if it hurts at any point.” Mingyu says amiably, and hefts Seungkwan up a little as he trots out of the gym. Seungkwan grumbles something mean and resentful under his breath and he can just  _ feel _ Mingyu’s smile getting wider.

“Don’t think this means you’re getting out of drills,” Seungkwan bites out his last line of defence and Mingyu just nods obediently, “I mean it, I’ll kill you. If you even think about telling anyone about this too, I’ll - “

“You were really cool.” Mingyu says, turning his head so he meets Seungkwan’s eyes. He smiles - small, sincere, soft - and Seungkwan nearly finds himself slipping off from shock. Mingyu’s chest is warm and firm under his grip and Seungkwan… for the first time, feels a little bit less angry as they head out into the cold night.

**Author's Note:**

> crossing the line (越界) is a taiwanese bl drama and it's terribly cute !! please give it a watch if you can find it - it used to be on youtube but i think the series went private recently. you can still find it on dailymotion though!
> 
> thank you for reading, if you enjoyed this fic please leave me kudos or comments below they really mean the world to me <333


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